Call it Love
by Pysche
Summary: Ficlet, SetoYami. When Atemu moves on to the afterlife Seto is forced to admit just how much the other means to him.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Yu-gi-oh.

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He was gone. Yugi was dead – that is, _Atemu_, his real name was _Atemu_, the lost and ancient pharaoh Seto had always pretended not to believe in, though to Seto he would always be Yugi, his rival, the dark spirit in the other Yugi's heart who chased away the darkness in his own. He had gone on to the afterlife, gone on to rest, to his well-deserved reward after he had saved the world. After he had saved Seto.

He had left Seto alone.

Yugi – _Atemu_, why couldn't he say his name? – had often called Seto his friend, had accepted him wholeheartedly when Seto could never accept himself, and in those last days Seto had weakened enough to believe it. To believe that Yugi saw something in him worth saving, that when he shattered Seto's heart the brunet could build it into something better, could throw away the blackened bits and survive with them as missing pieces.

But deep down Seto was a fool, despite his genius; he always had been. The shards of his heart he'd held on to, clung to with all his might when Yugi scattered the charred and twisted organ to the winds, were the weakest parts of him, the parts he'd felt were worth protecting, the parts of him that loved his brother, that found true and innocent joy in games. And really, Seto should have known that missing pieces of himself would never stay that way for long.

_He_ had filled those gaps; Yugi, Atemu, had become absolutely everything to the rival he called his friend. Seto loathed him, resented him, fought him and resisted him at every turn, obsessed over him and tried to wound him with cutting words that somehow never even seemed to scratch.

And called it love.

Not out loud, not even to himself in the darkest of dreams when all he could see were the challenging crimson eyes that stared at him so profoundly; but Seto knew in his heart of hearts, that patched-together heart that beat so strongly and ached so deeply, that all he ever wanted was Yugi's acceptance, that everything else he'd worked so hard for he already had, and all he lacked was that most important thing, that one thing he could never earn, though sometimes he could fool himself into believing that Yugi had already given it.

Yugi – _Atemu!_ – told Seto he was worth saving, that the past was gone, that he was strong enough to start his future. But Yugi _was_ the past, forever would be past and destiny and honor, all the things that Seto always despised and tried with everything in him to throw away.

Yet, Seto could never – would never – throw _him_ away. Atemu was everything to him; Seto was lost and empty without him, a heart only half-completed and without hope, and Seto would cling desperately to this past, would scream and fight and plead if only Atemu would stay, just _stay_ with him instead of ripping away the most cherished pieces of his new and tender heart.

But he never would. He never would. In the end he would only go, in the end he was already dead, he was already _past_, and _destiny_, and boundless_ fucking_ honor, and a rival he had barely liked anyway was no reason for Atemu to stay on earth when he could finally go to the paradise he deserved, where he could finally be at peace, where he could finally rest.

As for Seto, the wound was red and raw, and every thought and dream of Yugi tore it open further, until he felt that every ounce of joy was slowly bleeding from his life, irreparably, fatally. Though of course he wouldn't _die_, he couldn't _die_; emotional wounds never killed, after all. They just kept bleeding, just kept draining, just kept hurting.

Once in awhile, Seto talked to Yugi – the other one. The living one. But he could never bear it more than a few seconds, and even those brief encounters stirred up disturbing dreams, dreams of red eyes that stared at him so defiantly and pink lips that laid soft kisses on skin they had never touched in life and whispered reassurance in his ear.

And called it love.


End file.
